


to kill the monsters in your room (we'll load your gun with silver bullets)

by unwinged



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Broken Harry, Depression, Louis wants to fix Harry, M/M, Parent Death, Sad, Sad Ending, Sad Harry, Sad sad sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Notes, What Was I Thinking?, a lot of shitty metaphors about the rain, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwinged/pseuds/unwinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>But sometimes he does think about what it would be like if he was capable of being normal. He thinks about his sister who went to school and he asks himself why can’t he? Why can’t he attend university and why can’t he have friends and why can’t he go to parties like the other kids his age do? </i>
</p><p>  <i>And then he looks out of the window and he sees the rain and he remembers that he can’t ever be normal because Harry has never been one for people and people have never truly liked Harry. </i></p><p>  <i>And he thinks that he really likes the rain because people don’t like its sadness, just like they don’t like Harry’s.</i></p><p> </p><p>Or, the one in which Harry is broken and relies only on the rain and Louis just wants to fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to kill the monsters in your room (we'll load your gun with silver bullets)

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck. I wanted to post this anonymously because I personally think it's really shitty and I wanted to see what people think of it before I made any stupid decisions. Basically, I wanted to leave it up for a while under an anonymous user and judging on your reaction I would either a) happily reveal myself and feel genuinely ok about my life or b) drown in self pity and delete the entire thing.
> 
> But then I realised that I had no clue how to post anonymously and after a lot of fiddling around with options on my Ao3 account, I gave up and decided to post it to my user because I couldn't be bothered anymore.
> 
> If you do know how to post anonymously, please let me know in the comments so next time I'm lacking in self confidence about my work, I can post it anonymously.
> 
> So yes, please do leave your opinion in the comments (if you didn't like it, please be kind about it and offer advice) and I really hope you enjoy reading my work, even if you find my failure amusing. I wrote it at 3am and was under the influence of tiredness so nothing is my fault.

The rain listens to Harry. The rain listens to Harry like no one else does because Harry has no one to listen to him.

In his silent shitty apartment on the bad side of town he lays on a mattress, well and truly alone, and still the ever present rain listens to him as he cries himself dry again. It’s a bit of a promise - a thing they have. He and the rain have a bond. The rain is his only friend.

But despite the rain’s company, he’s sad and he’s lonely and he has nothing. Nothing to live for. It’s nothing new to him. His mother used to tell him to consider his future instead of the present but how can he have goals when he never does anything and will never do anything to reach them? His father used to have goals for him, goals that his mother had wanted him to achieve. Harry couldn’t achieve them. They expected more of him than he could give and that’s why he doesn’t speak to them anymore.

Zayn used to try and convince him to come to school. Last June he signed Harry up for classes that could change Harry’s future, ones that would set him with a degree that he could get a job out of. Harry never showed up to the classes. The future scared him. It wasn’t as if Zayn didn’t know Harry wouldn’t make an effort. It wasn’t as if he thought Harry would go. It wasn’t fair that he expected Harry to change, and Zayn was Harry’s _best friend_ , not his mother or his father, but Zayn still had expectations, and that’s why Harry doesn’t speak to Zayn anymore.

But sometimes he does think about what it would be like if he was capable of being normal. He thinks about his sister who went to school and he asks himself _why can’t he?_ Why can’t he attend university and why can’t he have friends and why can’t he go to parties like the other kids his age do? 

And then he looks out of the window and he sees the rain and he remembers that he can’t ever be normal because Harry has never been one for people and people have never truly liked Harry. 

And he thinks that he really likes the rain because people don’t like its sadness, just like they don’t like Harry’s. 

\--

Harry has a job on Tuesdays and Saturdays at the record store, a 4 hour minimum wage shift that barely pays for his rent and a few take away meals. It basically requires showing up and standing in front of a cash register for a few hours and talking to like 3 customers. To be honest, it’s hardly worth turning up for. It’ a lazy and sad job for a lazy and sad person and he fucking hates it, like he fucking hates most of everything. But it keeps him alive and it doesn’t require a degree and since Harry is incapable of getting off his ass and earning himself one of those, it looks like the record store is his best bet. 

Still, it wouldn’t surprise him if the place went bust soon and perhaps Harry should be a little more worried about it, seeing as the money he earns there is all he’s living on. But since when did Harry Styles worry or feel any emotion other than sad? He doesn’t. The rain knows he doesn’t. 

\--

Outside of the record store, it's raining. It's raining and it's Saturday night and there are people stumbling drunkenly through the damp streets at 11 o'clock, probably already on their way to their second club of the night. They're all smiling and laughing and Harry is tired. He can't help but crave their happiness. 

Briefly, Harry considers closing early and going out for a drink himself. But then he remembers that he'd rather close early and just go home. Harry doesn't do "casual drinks at the bar". He only does "vodka from the off licence to drink whilst crying". 

And he supposes he _could_ close early and go home now, because he's the only one left in the store and it's the last Saturday of the month, his turn to work the awkward and pointless late night shift that Niall insists they keep. Apparently Saturday night is the prime time for record sales, but Niall says a lot of things and that one is a fucking lie. Really, Harry knows that Niall wouldn't care if Harry closed up early tonight and went home now, because who are they kidding, there's not going to be a customer rush at 11 o'clock at night when everyone's having fun. Nobody in their right mind goes out clubbing and spontaneously decides to pick up a vinyl record on the way home.

So, decision made, Harry sighs and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, exiting the cash register booth and flicking off the light. He locks up the store like he has on the last Saturday of every month for the past 3 years and suddenly he realises that he's been working at this record shop for 3 fucking years. 3 years of shit. The thought depresses him and leaves his heart damp and heavy. This is his life now; he's not getting out of it. 

Harry pockets his set of keys and spins on his heel, speed walking away from the run down record store without looking back. Note to self: never think about that again.

The rain has reduced to a sad drizzle and Harry thinks that maybe even the weather is tired, just like he is.

And Harry keeps speed walking through town, regretting his earlier decision to walk to work, trying and failing not to get tangled in the clusters of students hanging around outside of the locked up shops. He bumps into a tall guy's shoulder, mumbling a numb "Sorry, mate," as he moves past and dodges another small group of girls. He avoids eye contact with anyone, as he usually does, continuing to weave his way out of the crowd.

He comes into a clearing and turns into the road with his apartment complex on it, breathing a sigh of relief. Harry hates the crowds. He finds it unnerving, being surrounded by so many people. He's glad to be back in a place almost completely void of humans. 

When he approaches the steps that lead up to his building, he can feel his eyes becoming heavy, drooping like they'd like nothing more than to close. Harry's heavy eyes still catch sight of the small, fragile figure sitting on the steps. It's not unusual. People always sit on the steps. But most of the time they're in groups and most of the time they're not tiny and most of the time their silhouettes don't look incredibly fragile and sad. 

Harry eyes the dark figure cautiously. They've got their head in their hands and Harry considers briefly asking the person if they're ok because he'd like it if it was him and someone was acting like they cared. He almost laughs at himself because Harry doesn't talk to people. 

He takes the steps 2 at a time and does his best to get past the person unnoticed. Usually he's good at being unnoticed, usually he can just slip by and blend in with his surroundings and usually no one talks to him.

But this person obviously doesn't know that he is the sad and broken weird boy from the fifth floor. This person is the first person to talk to him directly in months.

"You remind me of someone I used to know." The person says, voice feminine but unmistakeably male, accent somewhat foreign to what Harry's used to here in London. 

Harry freezes on the top step, blinks twice and turns carefully to face the boy. He hasn't moved his head from his hands and Harry wonders if perhaps he'd been hearing things, perhaps the boy never spoke to Harry in the first place. Apparently Harry is so lonely that he's imagining people talking to him. Harry's a fucking weirdo, but just as he's turning and walking away, the boy talks again. 

"I used to know a boy named Liam in my last year of sixth form who was sad and broken and nobody but me spoke to him. You remind me of Liam."

Harry doesn't move.

"At first I thought that he was broken beyond repair. I thought that once a person was broken, they couldn't be fixed. So I didn't try to fix him. I just spoke to him and sat with him and I never asked him any questions about why he was sad and why he let everyone ignore him like he did. And I was just his company until we left sixth form and went to uni. Well, he didn't go to uni and I never spoke to him again.

"I wasn't sure where exactly he went after I saw him on our last day of sixth form but nobody I knew ever spoke of him anymore. Whenever I asked around about him, nobody knew where he went and nobody could tell me where to find him or how I could contact him at all. It was as if he'd just dropped off the face of the earth.

"I eventually bumped into a woman who worked at our school when we were there and I asked her if she knew of Liam from my year and she said, "Oh you mean Liam Payne? We know him now as the boy who was broken and was never fixed." When I asked her why she said that he committed suicide straight after we left school."

Harry stares as the boy lifts his head from his hands and stands from his seat on the steps, turning to face Harry. He's still too far away for Harry to see him properly and the darkness is making him a mere silhouette to Harry's vision. Harry still manages to stare at the boy with a clenched jaw.

He's about to ask the boy why, why is he telling Harry this? But the boy speaks before Harry can utter a word.

"That weekend I travelled to Wolverhampton, where I knew he was from, and I met his mother who cried when I asked her about her son's death. She cried and I apologised but I just needed to know why and I needed to know what he left behind. She showed me the note he left. It was just a list of names. There was a list of names that included only those in his family and 3 other names, 2 of which were unfamiliar to me and 1 that was mine. I was on the list of people who kept him alive for the 19 years that he lived, and I realised that Liam could've been fixed, he just needed someone to be there for him."

Harry's muscles aren't working. He wants to turn and run because the rain isn't here to comfort him anymore, not here to keep him company. It feels an awful lot like betrayal, the fact that the rain has left him to fight his own battle, because now it's dark and it's not raining and Harry's palms are sweating and he doesn't know what to do. He expects the boy to speak on but he doesn't, he just walks towards Harry until they're standing face to face. 

Harry's eyes level with his and for the first time tonight, he can see the person who has been telling him the story of Liam Payne. Harry's eyes roam the unfamiliar face and he's hit by the beauty of this boy, the perfect angular line of his jaw, the perfect shape and height of his cheekbones, his perfect nose, his perfect forehead and most evidently, his perfect eyes that are a shocking shade of icy blue, vibrant and lively, much unlike Harry's sad green ones. This boy's eyes are shining with life and everything Harry is lacking in. 

And he's fucking perfect. Harry wonders why he bothered to speak to someone like Harry, who's sad and unwashed, wearing clothes that are too small for him and looking like a train wreck all of the time, feeling like a train wreck all of the time, is a train wreck all of the time.

A silence has fallen over them, one that remains present until Harry breaks it with "I don't know why you told me that."

To which the boy replies "I told you because you're broken. Anybody can see that. But you can be fixed." Harry's eyes are locked on the boy's pretty mouth as he talks, watching the way his lips form each word. Harry wants to kiss him.

And Harry doesn't understand what the boy is saying because he has no one there for him, he can't be ‘fixed’; there is no 'fixing' Harry Styles. So he looks the boy in the eye and whispers "But I have no one."

"Well you have me." The boy says, as if they've known each other for more than 10 minutes. "I'm Louis Tomlinson, by the way."

Harry fish mouths for a long time before he says "And I'm Harry Styles."

\--

And so after exchanging numbers on the steps leading up to Harry's apartment complex at almost midnight on a Saturday night, Louis Tomlinson becomes Harry's second rain. He calls Harry the following day and asks Harry how he is, if he's feeling alright today, and Harry tells Louis that he feels like he always does. Louis doesn't question him. It feels like a promise when just before he hangs up, Louis says "I'll talk to you soon. Probably tomorrow." and Harry laughs dryly and says "If you say so." because he's not counting on Louis to stick around.

But Louis does call. He calls the next day and the day after that and even the day after that. They're not long calls, just Louis "checking in" mainly, but it's so nice, it feels like all the support Harry's ever needed.

And Louis doesn't stop at daily calls, he visits Harry that weekend. I mean, only they sit together and they don't really say much, watch the tv in a comfortable silence, but it feels like so much more. 

Somehow it turns into a weekly thing. Louis comes over to Harry's apartment out of the blue regularly, constantly finding reasons to be there for Harry. Honestly, Harry's so glad that he has someone now, someone who isn't pressurising Harry into doing things with his life so soon.

Eventually the hour long visits turn into Louis staying the night, arms wrapped around Harry as they lay on a mattress in the darkness and stillness of Harry's room. He holds Harry when he cries and it means everything to Harry, absolutely everything. 

And, as time goes on, Harry begins to find it less and less painful for him to wake up to another day every morning. It's nice not to fall asleep hoping to never wake up again. It's nice to not dread existing. It's nice to feel wanted.

And he also likes how it feels not to rely completely on the weather to listen to him, it's nice to have Louis there to stroke his hair and let him sob into his shirt for hours on end before he falls asleep to Louis' smell, wrapped in Louis' embrace.

But of course, Louis isn't Harry's live in best friend and of course he can't be there 24/7. So when Louis isn't around to listen to him cry and comfort him to sleep, Harry always has the rain. It's like Louis and the rain are his support systems, his anchors, the things that are keeping him alive. Like the list of names Liam made before he died. If Harry made a list, all it would say is "Louis Tomlinson and The Rain." 

But Harry should have known that Louis wasn't just his best friend and his support system. Harry should have known that he was going to fall in love.

He realises it when they're lying together a few months after they first met, Louis' arms holding Harry closer than he'd ever held him before, when Louis tucks his nose behind Harry's ear and whispers "This is the first time we've laid together at night when you aren't crying." and he's right, Harry isn't crying, he isn't crying and he doesn't feel sad and Louis is the reason for that.

"I'm not crying. I'm not crying." Harry whispers in disbelief. "You're here and I'm not crying and I know you've got me. I love you."

And Harry does love Louis. Harry loves Louis and he doesn't realise he's said it until _he realises that he's said it_ and he freezes, muscles locking up in Louis' embrace.

But Louis doesn't seem to notice. "I love you too, Harold."

Harry spins around in the circle of Louis' arms and looks up into Louis' perfect ice blue eyes and he sees the light inside them and he realises that Louis means it. Louis has to mean it. "For real?"

"For real. Be my boyfriend?"

"Okay." And Harry kisses Louis for the first time that night, even if it feels familiar enough for it to have been the one thousandth.

\--

Harry meets Louis' family one weekend when they come from Doncaster to visit Louis in London. It's overwhelming when they meet at the restaurant because Louis' mum and stepdad are so lovely, nothing like how Harry's family used to be. They sit with their son and their son's boyfriend and they talk to Harry over the table like they really care about him and Harry feels like he has a family again.

\-- 

"Honey, I'm hoooome!" Louis calls, smile evident in his voice as he swings the front door to Harry's apartment open and enters, dumping his keys on the wall hook, slamming the door shut and bustling into the kitchen. "Harry?"

Harry isn't there; in his place is an unnerving silence, one that isn't natural, one that sets a heavy feeling of dread at the bottom of Louis' stomach. His smile falls right off his face.

"Haz?" Louis says into the silence. The silence throws his words right back at him and nobody replies. Louis shakes his head. Harry's _got_ to be here.

He ventures into the living room and finds no curly haired boy sitting in the armchair, head stuck in a book or watching the tv or sleeping. He checks the bathroom and finds no beautiful green eyes peeking out behind the shower curtain, ready to pounce on Louis and laugh at him for being so scared. He looks everywhere except Harry's room, because he dreads what he may find in there.

But it's inevitable, either Harry is in his bedroom or he is out, and Louis knows that Harry would have nowhere to go if he did leave the apartment. 

So he opens to door slowly and looks in and the first thing he notices is that it isn't raining and the window is open and Harry is laying curled in a ball on the mattress, shitty samsung phone discarded in front of him, in silence, crying. He's a silent blubbering mess and Louis is scared, but he still dives forward and envelopes Harry into a hug. He kisses Harry's forehead and buries his face in Harry's curls and whispers "Harry, what happened?" because even when they first met Harry never cried this much and there's no way that this is Harry just crying. This isn't normal. This isn't Harry.

Harry shakes his head against Louis' chest, leaning against him as he rocks them from side to side, mumbling "Shh, Haz, tell me what's wrong." into Harry's hair and waiting for him to be okay.

Slowly Harry's blubbering seizes and he takes a deep breath, pulling his face out of Louis' chest and patting Louis' sweater where he's gotten tears all over it. He smiles weakly but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and he looks like he could start crying again. Before he does though, Harry shakes his head and says "My mum died. Brain cancer. Last night."

Louis has honestly never asked Harry about his parents. He doesn't know why they don't talk anymore and he doesn't have a clue where they are or why they left their son to become so broken like this. But he knows that despite the fact that Harry rarely spoke to them, the loss of this woman who was his mother must be hard on him. Louis couldn't even begin to imagine the pain Harry must be feeling right now.

So Louis doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes and pulls Harry back into his arms so that his face is not entirely in Louis' chest this time, just so they're hugging and can lightly sway without toppling over. "We didn't speak, me and my mum." Harry mumbles. "I know I shouldn't feel so regretful because after we stopped talking a few years back I barely knew her anymore. We didn't speak, I didn't know her and she didn't know me. But I suppose I feel like I've completely missed the chance I had to get to know the woman who raised me and loved me as a child. All I did was push her away. I was bitter and disrespectful to her and I blamed her for pushing me too hard when really it was just me not wanting to do what she and my dad expected me to do. I'm not surprised she left me to fend for myself."

Louis doesn't have anything constructive to say. He just pushes his nose into Harry's hair and says "I am so sorry. I love you."

Harry shakes his head and says "Don't be sorry." and Louis pulls him into a kiss, one that doesn't feel like it means anything other than "I really do fucking love you". Harry sighs into Louis' mouth and for a long while all they do is kiss. 

And after they pull apart, they lay there together for hours in the darkness, silent and not speaking, until when Louis assumes that Harry thinks he is asleep and Harry whispers "It's all my fault." into his ear.

\--

Harry doesn't know what to do with himself. 

He doesn't know what to do with himself now that his mother is dead, he doesn't know how to _fix_ it, so for the first time in 4 years, Harry calls his dad. And now, laying in the darkness on a creaky mattress, curled up against the wall underneath the open window, he holds his phone in shaky hands. 

It's cold and Louis left a few hours ago to go to work at mc donalds and Harry feels tired. He feels numb. He feels as if the cold has seeped through his skin and is running through his limbs, leaving them frozen, and Harry doesn't even know what he's doing until he's clicking his father's contact (that he never quite got round to deleting) and bringing the phone to his ear. Then he realises that it's been such a long time and he doesn't know if his dad will even want to speak to him. He considers hanging up, he considers clicking the end call button and putting his phone away, never thinking of it again, but then his dad picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

His voice is deep and so familiar and it reminds Harry of his childhood, it reminds him of the memories he created with the man that he abandoned and didn't speak to for years. And suddenly Harry is completely frozen, paralysed with guilt. He can't speak. It's raining, he reminds himself. The rain is here to support him.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

Harry pinches his own thigh to get himself speaking, looking out at the rain as he says "Dad."

And his dad says "Son.", laughing dryly, sniffling. The sound is static in Harry's ear through the bad connection of his phone. He sounds almost sarcastic, mocking, as he talks. "I thought you'd never call."

Harry ignores him. "Mum died."

"She did."

Silence. "I'm sorry." Harry's voice cracks audibly and his fist tightens as he coughs in a feeble attempt to cover his weakness. He's not breaking, he's not going to show his dad how broken he is. "I'm sorry for not being there for you."

"I'm sure you are sorry, my boy." And Harry's dad hangs up, leaving Harry sitting with his phone in his hand, staring out at the rain and listening to the end call tone ringing in his ear. He doesn't cry, doesn't let any tears escape his eyes, he just sits, asking the rain why everything bad happens to him.

And when Louis finds him like this later, he knows what happened, he just knows, and he pulls Harry into his lap, stroking his hair and looking out at the rain, asking the rain why the world is being so cruel to this beautiful and perfect boy. The rain doesn't know the answer to that one.

\--

Harry's sadness from his encounter with his dad doesn't fade; he refuses to eat anything, refuses to leave his room, hardly speaking and hardly interacting with Louis at all. He doesn't kiss him and doesn't hug him, always pushing him away whenever he lays a hand on him and rejecting his affection whenever tries to put an arm around his shoulders. 

It's as if Harry's not even inside his body at all, it's as if he's disappeared and his body has been programmed to recoil from every touch, and truth be told, it's beginning to worry Louis because Harry's never been this bad before.

So he takes a few weeks off from his work at mc donalds to keep an eye on Harry, and he calls Harry in sick at the record store, telling Niall that he's really quite ill and won't be at work for few weeks, then he hangs up the phone after saying goodbye to Niall and returns to sit beside Harry. He drops to the mattress at a somewhat respectable distance, crossing his legs as Harry angles himself away from Louis. Louis tries not to take it to heart.

"Niall said that he hopes you feel better soon." Louis says to the back of Harry's head. 

No response.

"He also said that he'll count the days that you're not in as paid days off so you won't be going poor or homeless this month."

No response.

"Niall's a nice guy, huh? Quite Irish."

No response.

"I like Irish people."

No response.

Silence.

Louis suddenly feels sick. Something inside of him snaps and it's as if all of the days Louis has spent by Harry's side this week, holding one sided conversations with what might as well have been a brick wall are coming back up Louis' goddamned throat. "Oh come on, Harry! Why?" Louis says with a raised voice, exasperated. "What's wrong?! Why are you so distant right now?! Did I do something wrong?!"

Harry's head lowers and he sighs, mumbling something that Louis doesn't quite catch. 

Louis sits for a moment, trying to make sense of it, before he chews his lip and says "What?"

"I said get out." Harry says, clearer now. It's unmistakeable, impossible for Louis to have misheard. Harry is telling Louis to get out. It doesn't sound like a joke. It sounds like a break up. It sounds like Harry crushing Louis' heart with his bare hands, fingers constricting around it, breaking it to a million pieces. "I don't think we can be together right now." 

Louis swallows around the lump in his throat. He feels like he's about to throw up. "What did I do?"

"Just get out."

"But I-"

"Get out."

And so Louis gets out. He stands up with tears running down his cheeks, filling his eyes and blocking his vision as he stumbles out of Harry's room, out of Harry's apartment, out of Harry's complex, out of Harry's street, out of Harry's town, but hopefully not out of Harry's heart.

\-- 

After Louis leaves, Harry is left to complete silence. There are no more sounds of him moving around in the kitchen or watching tv in the living room or showering in the bathroom. There are no more sounds of Louis around him at all to remind Harry that he's not alone. So all Harry can think about is the fact that he is so alone, and it's his fault because he was the one who fucked everything up. 

But he misses Louis. His heart is heavier than it was when Louis was here and his apartment is colder, sadder, lonelier and he feels like everything is back to the way it was before he met Louis. He's reliant on the rain to listen to him, sad and numb and locked in his apartment. Only now, it doesn't seem to rain as much. The rain never seems to come.

It's sunny outside, the sky is clear, the clouds are pearly white and everyone is smiling. It's summer. All of the happiness and sunshine is a constant reminder of the fact that he is sad, he is lonely and he is not normal. And that only reminds him of the fact that he's a bad son. He didn't speak to his mother for the last 7 years of her life and now his father won't talk to him and _everything haunts him._

So now that Louis is gone and the rain isn't coming, Harry has no one to live for, nobody to rely on and nothing to cling onto. Just a lumpy mattress and a dark room. 

And as he lies on said lumpy mattress in said dark room, he wonders if Louis will ever come back.

\--

Louis isn't coming back. It's been over 2 weeks since Harry told him to leave and he hasn't turned up. That is, it's been 2 weeks according to Harry's estimation, but he wouldn't know for sure as he hasn't touched his phone or even left his room for more than 10 minutes at a time during these past few weeks. He was probably supposed to be back at work a few days ago. He doesn't really care. Money doesn't matter when you've got nothing to live for.

Harry has begun to think that being alive isn't worth the bother when you're alone. Life sucks when you have no one. But whenever he thinks "why shouldn't I just give up?" he tells himself that no, he could do it before he met Louis, he could be alive before he was less lonely, but then he remembers that once you know what it's like to be loved, you can't ever turn back. 

And the loneliness has influenced his eating habits. Harry has definitely ordered too many pizzas to count this week. He's probably got over 20 in his kitchen and has only finished like 3. He's wasting money and he's not eating enough but fuck it, fuck everything, Harry doesn't give a fuck. Fuck.

And as he collects some cold leftovers from the kitchen, retreating to his dark dark room to eat, Harry realises that perhaps even pizza is a better listener than the rain was, because pizza doesn't ever stop coming and it doesn't get replaced by something happier. 

But nothing and no one is a better listener than Louis is.

\--

Louis tells himself that Harry doesn't want to see him. He tells himself that he can't just go storming into Harry's apartment, demanding to be taken back, because the reason why Harry told him to leave was because he was too invasive and wasn't giving Harry the time and space he needed to think and heal.

So, he's decided that he just needs to give Harry some space before he goes in for an apology. He needs to keep his distance and stay holed up in his own apartment for a while and _he needs to give Harry space_. Which is what he is doing.

Well, by “space” he means that he hasn't gone back to Harry's apartment for 3 weeks and 4 and a half days. It's not like he's been counting but he's been counting.

Louis isn't sure how long he can hold himself together and he isn't sure how long operation "giving Harry time and space" is supposed to stay in action. He decides that no, fuck the operation, he needs to man up. He's going to go to Harry's apartment to apologise to Harry and Harry is going to love him again. Fuck yeah.

\--

Harry feels like he's been sitting in a black abyss of nothingness for 4 days straight. I mean, usually he feels like shit but these past few days have been especially shitty. Now he doesn't feel empty, he just feels like drowning. 

He hasn't eaten. He's been drinking a glass of water a day. He's been wearing the same clothes for a week and all he wants is Louis. 

He stares at the wall, ignoring the fact that he's got a pile of letters from the landlord requesting his rent waiting on the table in the kitchen, because it's ok. He won't be occupying this apartment soon. He smiles to himself.

\--

"The Things That Kept Me Alive:  
Louis Tomlinson  
The Rain  
Pizza"

Harry’s chicken scratch handwriting is scribbled across the piece of shopping list paper that was stuck to the fridge and is now in Louis’ hands, edges curled up into dog ears. Louis can’t breathe. He can’t move, he can’t breathe, it’s raining outside and he’s holding the paper in his shaking hands, silent, numb, like a black hole has opened up and swallowed all of his emotions. He knows what the note means. He knows what he’s done.

Louis screams.

**Author's Note:**

> If you found any annoying mistakes, please yell at me about them until I correct them!
> 
> Title from Comfort You by Erick Baker. 
> 
> tumblr: irelands.co.vu


End file.
